


Creature

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Depictions of Death, Fake AH Crew, Immortal Fake AH Crew, M/M, Minor Character Death, Vagabond Ryan Haywood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22527577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The feeling stopped, it stopped when Gavin died. It stopped when the flames consumed the warehouse, it stopped when he could hear his screams. His life turned dark that day, Gavin’s golden syrup laugh had stopped appearing next to him. Life wasn’t worth living when he felt alone. Life wasn’t worth living when the only life that had ever mattered to him had been stolen.orImmortal reconciliation
Relationships: Gavin Free/Ryan Haywood
Comments: 3
Kudos: 69





	Creature

Ryan remembers how life started. How when he was younger there was a light in the streets when his friends laughed, the way Gavin’s little stumbles would have him cackling. The sun that reflected off his cheekbones and the cigarettes that would hang from his mouth seductively. Life, before was amazing, looking back they seem honey trickled. Life, when he was living, was perfect - he had his partner, he had his income, he had something that made him feel alive. 

The feeling stopped, it stopped when Gavin died. It stopped when the flames consumed the warehouse, it stopped when he could hear his screams. His life turned dark that day, Gavin’s golden syrup laugh had stopped appearing next to him. Life wasn’t worth living when he felt alone. Life wasn’t worth living when the only life that had ever mattered to him had been stolen. 

Gavin was his partner in crime was the issue. The robberies, the police shootouts, the heists were only theirs. They weren’t anyone else’s memories to have, they weren’t anyone else’s moments nor their happiness. Everything he’d ever done had been with Gavin and now there was not a thing to him that mattered. 

He still worked, no life was ever worth dying for - a mantra he repeated no matter how many times he thought about it. 

\-- -- -- 

Ryan remembers changing. Remember donning a sack with eyes cut out for him to see, carrying a revolver to the house of the guy who killed Gavin - the man who had ordered the fire on both of them. Felt the way the gun felt heavy and secure in his hand, loved the sound of the safety clicking off. Felt stronger through the sound of the gunshot, felt powerful in the way the blood ran from the man’s head. 

Ryan remembers the weight on his head, the anonymity that made him feel better. The facade of someone stronger than he actually was. He remembers going around the city, finding anyone and everyone involved with Gavin’s murder. Pools of blood followed wherever he went, lakes of crimson that lined the bodies. Vengeance, someone else’s life for the life they had stolen from him. 

He remembers more vividly being hunted. When an ally had wanted him dead for killing a crew. He felt scared turning corners, didn’t want to think about his life being gone in the blink of an eye. He remembers being shot, a bullet right between the eyes. He remembers waking up too, stronger. A new sort of strength, the strength of a man who knows now he doesn’t have anything to lose.

Maybe he’d gone insane, maybe he’d cracked a little. All he remembers is how good it felt to be the one still standing again. 

\-- -- -- 

Gavin doesn’t like to think about the start of his life. Doesn’t like to think about the burning, the smoke in his lungs. Doesn’t like to think about the screaming that sent his throat raw. He can’t think about Ryan, can’t think of his face - hysteria, terror. The day he lost everything, gained only one thing. 

Gavin couldn’t die, it doesn’t sound like a problem until you’re at a dead end. Gavin remembers the 60s, remembers the psychedelics that consumed his entire being. The colours that bounced around his eyes and the music that never ended. He can’t remember being sober until he met Geoff, he had spent the next 30 years of his life chasing highs that he couldn’t afford and one man had changed that. 

Gavin can’t remember meeting Geoff is the problem. He had woken up the next day in his apartment - thankfully clothed - with breakfast. He was older, looked wiser than his age would indicate. Doesn’t know how or when he got there. He only remembers staying, downing ginger beer and eating his way through the man’s apartment. 

He remembers the man essentially marking him - keeping him as his stray. They co-existed for years, not doing anything of interest until the Los Santos crime scene had started sparking up in the 80s. Gavin was scared to live the life of crime again, shooting at police and robbing banks wasn’t the same without Ryan, a name had settled itself in his brain permanently, it echoed on his lips ever since they were separated. Gavin thought about him being dead, he’d be 90 and yet Gavin was never able to find a grave for him. Maybe he’d continued, maybe he’d been disposed of by one of the gangs they’d stirred a fuss in. It didn’t matter back then, life wasn’t about menial things to both of them, they killed and stole and ran a rampage wherever they could. Not hardened criminals, just people looking into their life and wanting whatever excitement they could get from it. 

Gavin hadn’t changed. So close to 100 years from when he started and he was sitting at the top with Geoff and his crew. It wasn’t right though, there was still a hole that was yet to be filled, a hole that had been left by a man Gavin had barely known. 

\-- -- -- 

It was Geoff’s idea to hire the Vagabond, no one knows when and where he came from. There were rumours that he’d operated since the 40s, yet everyone dismissed it as untrue. He was nowhere near old enough to have been a gun-slinging maniac for that long - unless they were like them Geoff thought. 

He’d assembled a group of immortals was the thing. He could sense it, these people too old for their faces, that walked oddly in their shoes and slipped into old English frequently. They were outsiders normally. It was a 6th sense, to see these people that lived on the side, that refused to be too obvious in fear of persecution and turn them into fearless criminals. 

Still, Geoff was unsure about the Vagabond. The name in itself was old, not a word heard frequently unlike the 50s but even that didn’t mean much. Names only meanings assigned to them, the ambiguity lead to uncertainty. Still, he was the best, the Fakes relied on the best to be where they were. 

\-- -- -- 

When Ryan turned up to Ramsey’s penthouse he wasn’t expecting much, expensive furniture and maybe some paintings but not an open plan living space. He had an Xbox and PS4 where Mogar and Rimmy Tim were playing something, a breakfast bar where Golden Boy and Jack were sitting, Golden Boy on his phone and Jack on her laptop. He stared at the Golden Boy a bit too hard, a dangerous smirk played at his lips, his fingers running quickly over the phone. 

It clicked, eventually. When his phone dropped against the breakfast bar and a little groan passed between his lips - not dissimilar to the ones he would pass when they were planning and he got hungry. He got upset at the sight. 

Gavin was alive, looking as he did all them years ago. Gavin was alive.

He was still as skinny as he was back then, his face seemed fuller though. He looked to have more life in him. He didn’t seem complete but he looked a lot better. Maybe it was the clothes having a better fit, maybe now the food is more frequent and filling than before. Gavin looked so much more than he did, more of what Ryan didn’t know but he was nowhere near the boy trapped in the burning building that Ryan remembered him as. 

He was snapped out of his thoughts by Geoff saying he needs to go into the heist room, with the others behind him so they could figure out which plans to give him. Gavin stayed, knowing he wasn’t needed. Playing on his phone as though the world around him didn’t matter. 

\-- -- -- 

Gavin didn’t notice the Vagabond until he put down his phone. He was staring at him, the black skull mask scaring him slightly. Gavin wondered what he wanted until he pulled the mask off. With it the face that had screamed him nearly a century ago - the face of a man he never thought he’d have back. 

He stood nervously, his leg closed together and his hands behind his back. He was scared to show himself, his best friend was back. His best friend was alive. He laughed. 

“You’re meant to be dead,” Ryan said. His voice angered but calm, a boat trapped in a storm. It wavered but refused to crash. 

“So are you,” Gavin stated. It was a fact. Neither man should be living right now, both had been facing the trials and tribulations of life and yet neither of them were dead. Both now well over 100 years old and nothing was going to kill them - nothing could unless it was God himself. 

“You didn’t think to try and tell me that you didn’t die? You got trapped in a fire, I mourned you for years and not a thing to tell me you were living,” His voice grew darker. Gavin shuffled slightly in his seat, anxiety mixed with a feeling he could no longer remember the name of. 

“You were gone. By the time I was sober, you should’ve been buried in a fucking grave,” Gavin stated through gritted teeth, “ I checked every god damn cemetery you could’ve been in and not a single mention of you, no crematoriums, nothing. You fell off the map and I’m meant to find you again?” 

“What about before that? You woke up from being burned alive and didn’t for a second think to contact me.” 

“I was drunk, I was fucking traumatised. We both fucked up, Ryan.” 

Ryan took some steps towards him, Gavin jumping out of his seat before realising he was essentially cornered. Gavin’s back hit the kitchen counters, he had nowhere to go as Ryan got closer and closer. 

Geoff came back in to see his frontman trapped by a man renowned for being dangerous and killing anyone that wronged him. He knew that Gavin couldn’t die but no one was allowed to make threats on his crew and get away with it, especially not someone he hired. He was about to interrupt when he saw the Vagabond go in for a hug. 

“I missed you, so much,” He murmured. 

“I missed you too Rye-bread,” Gavin muttered into the Vagabond’s shoulder. 

They broke apart laughing, Gavin was nearly crying. Ryan. 

“Please stop calling me that.”

“Never.”

\-- -- -- 

When the Vagabond become one of the crew, Gavin didn’t stop yelling about it for hours. Didn’t stop yelling about his best friend, didn’t once even think to tone it down. Adrenaline consumed him, having his original partner in crime back - the first person to ever teach him how to shoot was stuck with him forever.   
When the Vagabond became one of the crew, he smiled. He hugged Gavin as hard as he could, nearly as excited but a lot more contained than Gavin had been. The rest of the crew became sick of it, they both hung off each other, codependent in a way that they had never seen either of them be with others. 

When the Vagabond joined the crew, he shared a room with Gavin. They merged into one eventually. The Golden Boy went nowhere without him, even to bed. When the Vagabond joined the crew, he and Gavin talked about everything, secrets, feelings, anything. 

When the Vagabond joined the crew, he kissed their Golden Boy until he couldn’t breathe. He let everything he’d felt so long ago overpower him. He let himself have the one thing he always wanted.

When the Vagabond joined the crew, it felt like the world had smiled down on him. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the last fic I'll post until I start rolling out the immortal AUs. Remember to follow my tumblr (@goldenboy-gav) for updates on fics, etc. Thanks for reading <3


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